


Peppermints

by Meadowlark9



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anal Sex, Bathtubs, Harems, Heavy Petting, Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, M/M, Master/Slave, Molestation, Multi, Sexual Slavery, The Other Countries are Implied to Be There as Well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 13:10:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17468207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meadowlark9/pseuds/Meadowlark9
Summary: Emil has been situated in Sadik's harem for two weeks, and now it's time for his first session with the Master.





	Peppermints

**Author's Note:**

> A work back from around 2015 that I've polished and published on here, since FF doesn't do the raunchy stuff. Leave me any feedback if you'd like!

The cold marble flooring made the sweat under his feet all the more real. The twisting sensation of chills curled knots in his stomach, but there was no hope of getting out of this.

No point in trying to escape. No reason for hiding. His fate could be forced upon him. That would be a harder route to suffer than just facing the reality of where he was and who he was and simply complying with destiny.

Everyone had agreed that it was just easier that way.

* * *

_“Don’t look so afraid, Emil. We all had to do it and we all still have to do it.”_

_“It’s not so bad after the first time, my friend, getting it over with is really the hardest part of it all.”_

_“Just listen up, we’ll tell you what they’re gonna do, okay?”_

* * *

 

The halls were lined with stones and silks, the beauteous palace to where he was a prisoner. This place was home to one of the wealthiest Sultans in the history of the Ottoman Empire. Wealthy enough to have specimens from all over the globe as…treasured slaves…in his household, a whole set to himself. He too had been plucked as a “gem” from far away.

The sickening memory involved his lithe form being tossed onto a barbaric vessel while his brother was left to lie in the water, bleeding his life into the reddening ocean foam. The smell of rancid fish and seawater filled his nose whenever he thought about it.

He had been selected from people of his own country, narrowed down one by one, to find the person they could deliver as a new edition to their master. His brother was likely to have found himself the same fate, if he hadn’t been killed for getting in the way of the Turkish invaders. Many of the other kidnapped souls had succumbed to illness on the boat, had been killed, or were now enslaved elsewhere in the empire of the Turks.

Emil was an Icelandic concubine trapped in Istanbul, the capital and heart of the Ottoman Empire. And if that wasn’t daunting enough, Topkapi Palace, where the beloved Sultan resided.

Guards aplenty filled the halls and borders of the palace... except for the sector of the palace that was home to him and other unfortunate beings that had been forced into this fate.

It was forbidden for anyone other than the concubines, save a very particularly chosen few, to even be about in the hallway of the harem. The female concubines had their own separate space from the males, not too far away, but enough to where the groups were cut off from each other. Apparently the Sultan was very particular and quiet about his sex slaves, to a point where many palace inhabitants didn’t know that they even existed.

Emil had never met anyone outside of the male harem, save a few servants who brought them their meals.

Not the Sultan. Not any of the female harem members.

* * *

_“We do get to interact with the female harem every once in awhile.”_

_“Only whenever Sadik is feeling…’neglected of pleasure’.”_

_“But between our turns, we talk to the girls. Nothing special, they act just like us for the most part.”_

_“Not like you have much of a choice under our circumstances, you have little else to talk about, other than the life you had before.”_

_“We do get to share reputations though, and those girls are quite ruthless sometimes.”_

* * *

He had been sold into a life of sex and pleasure, and he had resided at the harem for two weeks before he had even been called upon to start his service.

Now the “promised day” had arrived, and the only thing he could do to try and curb his anxiety was staring at the walls. However, the corridor wasn’t long enough to dwell too long on other thoughts. He turned a sharp corner in the corridor and found himself entering at a chamber, red and yellow fabrics framing the main door on the opposite side of the room. Further down the wall where Emil had arrived from had an entrance similar to the one he had stepped through, likely leading over to the female harem.

However, there was only one destination that awaited him.

He was overcome with a nagging feeling to retch his organs up onto the floor.

* * *

_“Inside the first chamber is the bathtub.” Quite a few of the others visibly twitched and shuddered at the thought of it, easygoing half-smiles changing into obvious grimaces._

_“Is it that bad…?”_

_“Oh Emil…it’s horrendous.”_

* * *

 

Three females, the “elite servants” as the harem called them, stepped out of the next room to greet him. They were dressed in some of the most beautiful clothing that he had ever seen, but he knew not to be drawn into their beauty. They had their specific part to play in this servitude.

“Come along, Emil,” one cooed in Turkish.

“You don’t want to keep your master waiting, right?” another leered.

“No, I don’t,” he said lowly, in response.

In order to respond appropriately to his master, he was taught some Turkish before he was placed in the harem. The other members, since they were all from different origins, learned Turkish and communicated mainly in Turkish with one another. Unless members came from similar regions, it was the only language understood within the harem.

The two females who had spoken wrapped their palms around his wrists, pulling him forward, while the remaining one was pushing on his back. The room within was colored in light fabrics and paintings, all surrounding the infamous bathtub.

Small, innocent-appearing hands latched onto the robe he wore while he was in the harem, pulling it off in a heap and leaving himself exposed to the three women. Half tempted to raise his hands to cover himself, he lost his chance whenever the trio pushed the boy towards the bath, already half-filled with steaming water.

With no other options, he surrendered and climbed into the bath, settling down in the water, watching and waiting for whatever was so horrible about all this, besides being stripped down and forced into a tub by three strange girls.

One girl started soaping his hair, while another scrubbed a bar of soap into a cloth to lather it, and the third girl was nowhere to be seen. The hair washing was a soothing massage against his scalp, and in a state of comfort, he allowed his eyes a moment of rest.

Taking the opportunity, the girl with the cloth latched her hand against his neck and began to wash, leaning against the elegant tub for leverage. The cloth dipped from his neck to his collarbone, and gently began to circle his soft nipples, caressing the skin with soap and fingers hidden only behind a too thin cloth.

He twitched under the touch, but it only seemed to encourage the girl to do more. Stroking her fingers against the nipple, she only let up once it had hardened prominently, and she found it fitting to give the same treatment to his other one, despite the soft protests that emerged from Emil’s lips.

“Please…” he whispered, in hopes that the girl would find some heart within her to spare him of this embarrassment.

However, she hadn’t responded the way he had planned, “Ah…so eager to please the master, no?” The cloth slid down to his stomach, and she smiled malevolently at him, “Then let’s hurry it up and get you all clean.”

* * *

_“Those three are arguably the worst part of the whole experience.”_

_“How so? What could be worse than being forced to have sex with that rich bastard?”_

_“Sadik is controlled by his arousal. When he’s had his fill, you’re done. The only reason he touches any of us is because he’s aroused. That’s it. Those girls though? They have no purpose for putting their hands on us. They do it for_ kicks. _They want to make us feel horrible, to feel dirty.”_

_“And no matter how many times you’ve been summoned to serve, they still run right over you. And you can’t stop them.”_

* * *

 

The washcloth scrubbed in circles on his abdomen, her fingers occasionally pinching his side or the skin under his navel. After she had “washed” his stomach, she became fascinated with running her slim fingers through the light hairs trailing from his navel downwards.

After it appeared that she had abandoned the cloth altogether, Emil felt her bare fingers crawl over the inside of his thigh to stroke at the soft skin. Biting down on dry lips, in hopes that his silence would discourage the girl, he could only sit there and just let her take what she wanted from him.

Moisturized palms cupped the back of his knees, and she seemed to entertain herself by raising and lowering his legs a few times, her dark almond eyes meeting and falling away from his own violet ones.

The other woman, with her hands still imbedded in his hair whispered something in Arabic over towards her friend, something he couldn’t decipher, which raised several giggles and confident smiles on both of their lips. Unfortunately, those smiles did not soothe his worries in the slightest. They only made his spine crawl and his legs twitch under the hands of the woman who had his feet pressed up against her chest as she held his calves aloft.

Those smooth hands glided up his calves to his thighs, his legs were manually wrapped around her waist as she bent over the tub towards him. Careful fingers massaged and squeezed his skin in a way that would be marvelously relaxing should the situation have been quite different.

A pitcher was dumped into the bath to fill with water, and was poured out over his head, in means to rinse his hair. Fingers of the washing girl glided over the crown of his head to feel his wet silvery strands.

She was spilling the water over him again whenever he felt the hands of the other woman upon him, now enclosed over where the heat in his body was pouring towards. He yelped in shock and arousal, trying to sit up and push her hands away, when the rinsing pitcher was set aside and the hair-washing girl wrapped her arms around his neck, forcing him back against the end of the tub. She raised a hand to his cheek, then slid her palm over his lips to seal them. However, he had more pressing matters that were taking place further south.

A hand was wrapped fully around his cock, now throbbing with need and from the pleasure that the woman was giving him. Heat pounded against his gut and his hips rose from the waters of the tub, in some sort of vain attempt to push the girl to do more. He snarled, scolding himself for letting his body fall prey to such a damned slut of a servant.

“S-Stop….please…” he called out against the fingers of the other girl.

“Shhh…darling, let us do our work.”

Her fingers pumped him to hardness, squeezed him in perfect pleasure, pre-cum beaded at the head and sliding down his reddening shaft. The thumb of her dark hand stroked the head of his cock, rubbing against the sensitive glands, causing the poor boy to whine and writhe in the waters, before turning her thumb to run it along the dark vein on the underside. Fingers curled to touch the skin behind his organ, reaching out to take his sac into her hand.

Completely erect, Emil was overcome with shame.

He was already so hard, and he hadn’t even been tossed into the room with his master yet. He ached, and he wasn’t sure how much more of the teasing and prodding that he could take before he fell over the edge.

He felt another hand pushing against his thigh, opening his legs up wider. A hand returned to stroking his penis, but the other slid past, downwards. The palm came down to cup his ass, rubbing a thumb against the skin and squeezing the softness. He whimpered when her hand spread his cheeks open, exposing the cleft and his entrance. The hand still pumping his erection slowly sped up to a higher tempo, while a single finger below pressed itself against his entrance.

Emil nearly screamed out, instead wailing in agony, arousal and fright shooting through his hips, causing him to buck into her hand. The pumping fist squeezed him painfully, pre-cum spilling out to drip down into the bathwater. The finger against his hole rubbed along the ring of muscle, pressing the pad of the finger inside of him. His body felt alight with fire, and yet his hips wouldn’t falter in their desperate hopes of bucking himself enough to climax before they were finished with him.

“Yes, my darling, call now for your Master! Call for him to take you!”

The other girl tipped his head back against the rim of the tub and leaned down to kiss underneath his jaw, her fingers now sliding into his mouth. He didn’t dare fight back or bite down. He knew that severe consequences would surely befall him should he harm one of these girls.

* * *

_“The expertise that those three sluts have are achingly awful.”_

_“And don’t try anything on them, you hear me? More than one of us have tried before, and the response isn’t too pretty…. Let’s just say that their value equals some stubborn scars.”_

_“Unfortunately, things don’t get much better after the bath…”_

* * *

The touching only ceased when he saw that the third girl, who had been gone for an eternity it felt like, returned. A small ceramic bowl was cupped in her hands, and a stack of towels were draped over her arm.

The two girls pulled themselves off of Emil and extended their hands to him, the universal sign for their willingness to help him step out of the tub. He stood up on shaky limbs, his arousal still solid and jutting up, his body still tingling with the jittering feeling from the fresh molestation. Thin and pale arms extended themselves to the stronger Turkish hands, fishing him out of the basin and setting him down on the floor.

Six hands and three towels covered him, rubbing his dripping skin to dryness and turning his pressed down hair into an unruly mess. After all of this time dedicated to the preparation, it was a wonder that Sadik would still be just as eager to fuck a whore. Not that he would know, of course. But, from his impression of the other concubines, the Sultan’s libido must have some longevity.

Raised off the floor once again, Emil stepped awkwardly through a second set of curtains to a different room. There were two long tables filled with vials, vases, and saucers similar to the bowl in the hands of one of the girls. The smells in this room were overbearing, and he felt a little lightheaded. This room was likely some sort of perfuming room, to which he could only hope that they wouldn’t be too generous in their layering of scents on him.

The three harpies gripped at his forearms, settled him down at a preferred spot on the floor: a mound of pillows and blankets to ease the backside. They pushed him on the chest to lie back, and he hesitantly did so, though the heat and fear from the bath lingered in his limbs, and caused him to twitch and tremble.

The new contact of fingers on his steaming skin were enough to make his body jolt in fear, before he squeezed his eyelids shut, in some feeble attempt to block the girls out. The feminine fingers stroked the skin below the base of his neck, along his chest, and down his forearms. They were trying to get him as relaxed as possible, Emil thought, his muscles clenching together - refusing to slacken. Sweat rolled down his cheeks and under his hair, and he internally repeated a mantra of prayers in hopes that these torturous girls would be finished after this. Fingers gradually wormed their way down to Emil’s thighs, squeezing and kneading the skin, causing his erection to stiffen and pulse.

One of the women stroking his legs called over the girl with the bowl, still placed in her palms, who took a seat between the two working girls. The last woman trailed her fingers down the path of his inner thighs to place a single finger against the tip of his reddening member.

The concubine wailed in the heat of his arousal, his hands clutching the pillows as he rolled his eyes back in the sick pleasure. Yet, he was still left to wait with his throbbing hard only teased.

She chuckled, “Do not whine, darling, you will have your master soon enough.”

In an instant, Emil was rolled further back, and his legs were raised by the knees and spread open. His cheeks flushing a dark red, his eyes closed in embarrassment when the girls looked him over. They made soft comments to one another in Arabic, before turning to the bowl that had clung so close to them. They dipped their fingers into the liquid substance, coating their entire hands in the stuff. The girls found the best way to please Sadik with this whole preparation was with oil, fine oils that would help slick up the certain areas that he preferred per courtesan. Considering that this was Emil’s first time, the girls planned the common procedure.

Glossy fingers of one hand pressed against his entrance, pushing against the ring of muscle to warn him of a girl’s intentions. Shivering against the touch, he felt tears start behind his eyes, and his lips opened in a voiceless gasp. The pair of digits pushed in, sliding through with the help of the oil, and his body clenched against her, rejecting her presence inside of him.

However, when she complained to the other girls, his thighs were pulled apart more, and one of the women climbed on top of him. The distraction helped for the girl to begin pushing her fingers apart to open him up, adding a third and a fourth as she went to graciously stretch him.

The girl on top of him went to work as well, reaching between her legs to grasp his length, stroking the oils onto him. The added stimulation was proving to be too much for him, and he felt that he would burst any second. She rubbed her oiled fingers against the backside of the organ and up to the tip, careful not to rub against his slit. Sadik wouldn’t want his harlot to be fussy for him. But, she could see that Emil was standing right on the edge and could come at any given time. The girl gripped the base of his cock and pressed a clean finger against the tip.

She scolded, “That’s enough, you will only come for Master Sadik. Do not spoil our work.” After a small whimper, Emil fell silent. She finished up her treatment of his cock, but stopped to squeeze his sac lightly before taking her hands off him completely.

The girls climbed away, standing back up and looking down at the pale skinned man, before pulling him up. Emil had very little stability left, with all of his blood and energy in the arrow of heat between his legs. Nevertheless, the girls managed to tote the boy through the next set of curtains, and two held him up while the third ran over to pull off a dressing drapery from a side table.

It was a raspberry red colored drape, that seemed to have no purpose other than to be a slight cover of his body. She pulled it on him, the bell sleeves hanging off his shoulders and the “dress” length reaching down to the floor. However, his prominent erection could still be easily seen through the cloth, and Emil fought his urge to cry. He almost wondered if the friction between the cloth and his arousal would be enough to get him off.

The dressing girl stepped back and smiled, “You’re ready for our master.”

She led him and the other girls to the screened door, the entrance to the Master’s chamber. Turning to look at him dead in the eye, she hissed, “You will please the master in whichever way he chooses. If you do not please, then you shall be punished.”

The trio left him there, and Emil took in a deep, somewhat labored, breath. This was it.

* * *

_“Do not be afraid of Sadik, Emil. He can tell when you’re afraid.”_

_“There’s no telling how it will go. For all we know, he could treat you well. Maybe.”_

_“But, we won’t know. All we can do is hope.”_

* * *

He slid the door open slightly, peering through and hooking his trembling leg around the screen door, in some meager attempt to appear more seductive to his Master. He caught sight of the man, and inhaled a sharp breath. He was large, even from back here he could tell. His cock twitched against the fabric, Emil was worried how the man would even fit inside of him.

The man, who was sitting on a comfortably prepared area on the floor, motioned for the concubine to step through the door and make his way over to him, “Come inside, close the door behind you,” he said in his deep, rich voice.

With his senses teased to the edge, it was quite a difficult thing for poor Emil to manage. But eventually, he stepped over towards the man, though with the trembling and pressure on his groin, he collapsed at the feet of Sadik, at the edge of the pillows, cushions, and blankets covering the floor.

For sure, Emil was certain that he was to be punished for his clumsiness. He shook, and almost looked up to his master, before he felt a warm hand on his arm.

Sadik was extending his other arm to pull him closer, in a somewhat gentle - but firm - fashion. “Easy, Emil, you must be careful,” he said softly, his strength and the efforts of the sex slave finally shifted his body to the spot that his master desired…in his lap.

The Icelandic male never felt so vulnerable, his hard-on pressing against the fabric of his coverup and into the abdomen of the Sultan. The concubine was still quivering in his skin, leaning against the chest of his master only for support, until the master’s strong hands grasped his wrists and placed his palms on Sadik’s biceps.

Was this truly the Master? The one that forced his slaves to take him in harshly or to fuck him without offense? He didn’t seem so harsh as they described him.

The warm hands descended again, running lined palms down the back of Emil’s coverup and to his backside, pushing him against the dominate man, along with his pulsing erection further against his stomach. The pressure on the certain areas of his body was becoming too much, but he didn’t dare allow himself release. Instead, he gripped onto Sadik and concentrated on his breathing.

For a few minutes, all was silent. The Sultan and the slave were just sitting there, breathing together on an arrangement of cushion and feathers, with only the master kneading and rubbing the Icelandic man’s skin however he pleased.

But, one small whimper escaped his lips, just as the Sultan’s fingers began to ghost over his jaw, echoing off the stone walls. He felt a cold sweat gather at the back of his neck. He was just so hard, so desperate for touch.

This seemed to catch Sadik’s attention, as he finally moved his hands from his upper half to his lower. His large hands slipped underneath the drape that hid Emil's shame, and cupped his rump. Emil bowed his head and nearly sobbed as Sadik spread him apart and felt along the cleft of his ass, until he finally pressed an index finger to his entrance and rubbed against it, stroking the bud and causing his muscles to curl.

He felt the Sultan's need growing beneath him, his large arousal pressingly stubbornly and eagerly into the bottom side of the whore’s milky thighs.  
Why couldn't the man just have his way and be done with him? The pressure on Emil's groin was not going to uphold itself forever. Yet the straining penis against the Sultan's abdomen was largely ignored, more in favor of fingering the Icelandic concubine.

* * *

 

_“Do not, and I mean it, do not demand Sadik anything. You could sit there in the most trying of states for thirty minutes or longer, but it’s far better to wait it out.”_

_“Believe us, he’s tormented us to the ends of our lines before. He’s only decent if you’re docile for him.”_

* * *

  
The Turkish man’s nose and breath resonated off of his shivering skin, closing over the bolts in his neck. From there, he laid his lips against the hollow of his throat and took in the aroused scent of Emil. Smell was quickly followed by taste, and a thick tongue ran a line up to the underside of his jaw.

“So exquisite…” he murmured, “…you taste like peppermints and the winter winds.” Breathing against his ear, he cooed, “Tell me Emil…what do you need…?”

Almost wailing out in sheer relief to voice his thoughts, Emil whimpered, “My master…please…touch me.” His erection seemed to stiffen more, if it was possible. The boy nearly pushed his hips further into Sadik’s body, but he was interrupted by the thick warm hands that pressed themselves to the insides of his upper thighs.

A finger traced the sensitive skin around Emil’s cock and dipped down to press against his balls, stroking them for a moment. Emil whined, his back arching forward and his mouth starting to fall open. Noticing the continuous dripping of pre-cum down his shaft, almost as if the concubine was threatening to burst, Sadik finally placed his hands on the blond male’s member, stroking smoothly but quickly. Moans escaped through the boy’s lips, strings of “please” and “more” cutting through the sputtering of his native language.

It went on like that until the Sultan allowed him to release himself as he willed, and at once Emil spilled his ejaculation in ropes against his own chest and the flimsy shift, tears streaming from his eyes with relief.

“That’s it…” the Sultan whispered to him, his fingers pinching at the young man’s thighs and balls to tease the sensitive skin. He lifted a dark finger to his pale eyes, swiping away a tear that nearly escaped his eyelid. “Such a good boy…” he grinned, though Emil couldn’t tell if it in was pure amusement or otherwise.

“But, you aren’t finished yet my sweet Emil…”

His mouth fell into a neutral frown as his cock twitched impatiently at Emil’s underside. A shiver ran down the harlot’s spine, and goosebumps prickled to the surface of his skin. Sadik’s warm hands lifted the man up, placing the courtesan closer to his master while allowing the Turk’s cock room to nudge against his entrance.

A whine slipped from his dry mouth, a blush spreading across the Icelandic man’s face to his ears. His fingers hesitantly clung to the sides of the Sultan, quivering somewhere between fear and delight. Surely, with how gentle this man was before, he could be gentle again?

Glancing between his whore’s fingers and his lowered face, Sadik took Emil’s chin and tilted him up to meet his eyes. _So exquisite of a man…_

Removing the hand from his jaw to the shift that his elites had dressed him in, the Sultan slipped the fabric off of his shoulders to toss it away to the edge of the cushion. It tumbled off the side and slumped against the stone floor beneath them.

Now able to see Emil in his entirety, Sadik wrapped his arm around the man’s torso and leaned his face towards his chest, taking one of his pale pink nipples into his mouth. His thick tongue dragged over the pert nipple, his teeth sinking in delicately and squeezing the skin to redness. His other hand teased at the other nipple, pinching it between his thumb and index fingers, the nail digging into the areola. _So beautiful he was…_

He sucked harshly onto the nipple in his lips, lapping over the skin and the very tip of the nipple, sucking more when Emil let out encouraging noises and whimpers.

Emil squirmed in his lap, his small cock filling with blood once again, prodding against his Sultan’s firm abdomen. The Sultan’s trail of hair below his navel was becoming wet where it met the head of the concubine’s penis, rubbing his pulsing organ to stiffen and flush dark pink. Oh…how he needed those big hands to work him over again. On his cock, at his hole, anywhere but his hard and tormented nipples.

Sadik’s own slit leaked a bead of pre-cum against Emil’s hole, desiring to feel those tight walls squeezing his cock. He could feel oils dripping from the harlot’s rectum onto his own skin, and Sadik’s patience began to wear thin. Removing his fingers from his nipple, he placed the pad of his finger at the boy’s entrance and began to rub circles around the opening. His finger becoming slick from the oils gradually pushed inside a few centimeters, tormenting his whore to futher hardness.

He pulled Emil even closer to his body, pressing his cock to the man’s tight entrance, the head of his thick shaft attempting to penetrate and claim the concubine.

Emil wailed in pleasure, his milky fingers clung nervously to the Sultan’s body. Why wasn’t he already inside him already instead of that cursed finger swirling around his entrance?

“Relax…” Sadik’s hand that had been around his harlot’s torso moved down to Emil’s rump, pulling his ass apart for his cock and finger to continue to prod at the bud interchangeably, “…and let your master in.”

Forcing himself to relax, Emil’s legs trembled around his Sultan’s abdomen, the hairs rising on the back of his neck when he felt his master remove his index finger from his concubine’s asshole.

Steadily, the large cock pushed itself into Emil, fighting the resistance that the young courtesan’s ring of muscles was instinctively forcing against him. He was tight, but not tight enough.

Biting into the soft flesh of the boy’s ear, Sadik groaned darkly, “Let me taste you, little Emil. Let my cock inside…”

His concubine’s mouth spread open in a voiceless cry, tears pouring from his shut lids. His breath came in short pants, then small gasps and moans. His cock was rapidly swelling and beginning to drip in excitement, and the Turk began to force himself in deeper, until his balls rubbed against the boy’s ass.

“Shh…yes, yes…let your master take you….” Sadik breathed, short pants escaping his own lips, “Gods…Emil…yes…”

Emil couldn’t take it, the warmth of his master’s cock deep inside of his ass, the girth and length of the cock was unbearable and yet so good. He had to feel this man’s shaft moving, taking him, dominating him until he spilled again.

“M-Master…”

“Yes, my beautiful whore?”

“Please…” Emil attempted to spread his legs open further around the man’s waist. “Please…take me as you wish…”

That was all that was needed, the Sultan rolled the man onto his back in one powerful motion, gripping open his pale thighs, and began to thrust forcefully into his lover. Emil cried out in ecstasy, his hands gripping at the soft fabric of the pillows on either side of him.

His master was so _big_. The head of his cock pressed against his prostate easily with every thrust into him, eliciting more vocal moans that gradually transformed into screams of bliss. The warm slapping of the master’s balls against his stretched hole, the hot hands of his master on his delicate thighs, his own cock twitching and arching up to touch his belly in pure desire. All he wanted was for his master’s cock to press and pound and devour him until the end of time. God, it stretched his hole so _wide_ he worried it would tear.

“Oh my beautiful Emil, your ass was made for me…”

The Sultan pulled one of his whore’s pale legs over his shoulder, allowing him to thrust deeper and faster, the Turk’s head rising up towards the ceiling in pleasure.

Emil let out a shrill screech, the oils sickening up his entrance and squelching around the master’s cock and along his walls, his body was pulsing with arousal.

But he needed more, so much more, he wanted that large hand on his cock once again, squeezing and pressing against the head of his penis to bring him to orgasm.

Gently reaching up to the master’s hand on his raised leg, he stroked his thick fingers, silently pleading with him through glassy eyes to touch him between his legs.

“You need my fingers, my sweet whore?”

Giving a short nod, Emil let his hand fall back onto the pillows, his eyes closing.

Instead of wrapping around his reddening shaft, however, Sadik’s hand touched at his wet hole, rubbing the pink ring and prodding against the hole again. His index and thumb circled around where his cock was just sticking out of the concubine’s asshole, touching where their bodies connected.

Tears streamed from Emil’s eyes, in sexual frustration at the lack of stimulation at his cock and yet from so much stimulation, more than he believed possible, just where the Sultan’s cock and fingers brushed intimately at his ring.

However, Sadik understood where his concubine really needed to be touched, and moved his index finger from his whore’s asshole to the slit of his cock, rubbing it between the pad of his finger and his nail. At once, pre-cum surfaced and slickened his shaft for his master, only encouraging him to touch more. He squeezed at the base of the cock, jerking his hand up slowly to the beginning of his head and began to rapidly squeeze.

“Oh…! Oh gods…” Emil cried out, his hips bucking up and rising to meet his master’s hand. “Yes…yes, please…m-my master…please!”

Just the aroused noises from Emil brought Sadik closer to completion, his balls beginning to tighten painfully under his cock, but Emil’s walls beginning to squeeze him even tighter. His cock was spasming in the Sultan’s fingers, twitching with the need to ejaculate.

One final clench from Emil was all that Sadik needed to bury his rod so _deep_ within the boy’s tight asshole and spill his seed into him. Curses fled his lips in Arabic and Turkish, sweat dripping from his hair down his chin. He didn’t dare move his hips from continuing to press into the harlot.

With the heat and power behind Sadik’s last thrust, Emil’s own seed splattered onto his chest and belly, with a string of moans and gasps flowing from his mouth.

“Oh yes…yes, my sweet Emil…yes…” Sadik’s hand began to jerk the boy off once again, milking the rest of boy’s second orgasm from his small penis, several more shoots of seed dripping down the shaft to pool at his base and his ballsac.

Emil began to lean further back, exposing his body entirely to his master wantonly, resting against the pillows. His eyes fluttering closed and slumber beginning to overtake him. His hands loyally clung to his master’s body, as if inviting him to join in his sleep. His thighs, twitching with completion, only spread themselves open around his master.

The Sultan rested lazily on top of his whore, watching with arousal at his concubine’s vulnerability. He never bothered to pull his cock out from the younger man. Oh yes…let the boy rest, but far more would come later…so much more…

His service here had only just begun.


End file.
